The Cow And I

Age Discrimination

I fried up a heap of thinly sliced round steak tonight while visiting my in-laws, generously sprinkled on sharp cheddar cheese, and served it piping hot to my wife and her father.

After a few bites, I expected raves and cries for more. Instead, they both politely put their forks down. Huh? Had they been excessively snacking before dinner? Was the cheddar too sharp? Were they more in a mood for dessert? No, no, and no.

In fact, their collective reasoning (at least Samina's reasoning - her father knew when to remain silent to avoid getting drawn into a debate) was that the meat was too old. It had, apparently, gone bad. I was perplexed. When one examines it pre-cooked, it looks just fine. Perhaps purchased past its "prime", but perfectly able to do the job that I asked it to do:

This was blatant age discrimination. My own wife. How could she?

Indeed, while age discrimination against food occasionally rears its ugly head, most agree that it is wrong and immoral. After all, is not the finest cheese aged? Don't they cure balsamic vinegar in oaken barrels for years before serving it in the finest vinaigrettes? In merry olde England, butchers once hung pheasants in their store windows until they rotted off the string. Even the best beef is aged: a judicious degree of decomposition ensures that the choicest cuts are tender and juicy. There's no argument. Age discrimination is just plain wrong.

I have to admit that my interest in aged meats is more financial than aesthetic. A specially price-reduced piece of beef, like the one I cooked up tonight, represents an opportunity to buy more. Money can be stretched a long way when one refuses to discriminate.

But even more importantly, we have to stick to our principles. And doesn't it feel good to do the right thing?

In my case, after tucking away 11.8 oz, it really did feel good. So good that I took a nice sweaty nap afterwards. I did have some unrelated gastro-intestinal problems later in the weekend, but I can assure you my discomfort resulted from the under-ripe banana I ate during Saturday breakfast. But hey, I ate the banana anyway. No sir, nobody is going to accuse me of age discrimination.

Posted by eric at March 12, 2004 08:17 PM